PRIVATE
LIFE JOURNAL OF MARK WAYNE MOHR, AAAR
JANUARY
20, 2014,
MONDAY
AFTERNOON AT 4:09
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 75 DEGREES FNHT.
I
have a powerful feeling that the god Psyche Myrathus of the great
Ring River Province, next door to Olympia Province on the
ASTRAL-PLANE, is one of the few real peeps out here in cyber-village,
reading me, don't ask YYYYYYYYYYYYYY, I just feel it, and when I
truly feel fucking shit, I am just about 100% accurate and correct,
or as they say in slang, on the $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$.
If
I thought my mother really could have faked her death somehow, and
really could be out there, living in mother fucking Minnesota, as the
Social Security records show this to be, at least on the internet
that I checked this all out of in-between the years of 2009 and 2011,
at the age Sara J. Karge would be if still here, which would be 94
years; I would think she too is in on this, and laughing at me; and
even somehow got a powerful 'real honest to the gods psychic', to
warn me, with that 'dollar store dream', shortly before I had moved
in with Ann and Dawn King, in the summer time of 2008; and won't
lie now and tell you I would bet my fucking life on anything. I have
been the mark in this fucking carney show for many many many Ingrid
lovely not lively, all though maybe lively as well as lovely, typos
and all; years. I am very tempted right now to show th symbolism here
without the need of any dog walkers, to tell the machine to hear me
on a certain vowel sound, removing it therefore from the word above,
and working just like any mathematical equation or even a basic
simple arithmetic function such as carrying the two, just don't ask
me to where, or how heavy it might be, remembering that it may be my
brother, and then the math changes and the weight goes out the
windows with the police regs during certain Law & Order
situations. Still, I did fuck up, the inverse of Einstein's formula
is not what I posted on the past blog,sorry, we all fuck up as you
know so well, Mister Bruce Allen Pennock. I meant of course to type
in, that energy is equal to mass when divided by the squared
constant, or put in math symbols, M=E/C SQ. Go ahead, say WOW
somebody, so I can smash a mack truck up into the front of your home!
Hells
bells, the simple reality is that you
honestly have only been given a smattering, about musical saga's,
Jefferson supergirls; and great wonderful powerful Aunt Oz
Geraldine's; all notwithstanding!!!!!!! BRRRRR is it cold or don't I
know how to abbreviate the word brother?
Dennis
calls me and says, after I said hello and he said ''Mark, it's you
right'', and I said yeppir or something like that, half asleep. He
then said, ''LOCK LIMIT UP''. I said to him what's that mean? He said
that is good, your position in the palladium contract was at maximum
profit and already no longer able to even trade today. Next morning
he called and did not wait for me to say it is me, and he said,
''LOCK LIMIT UP''. This was the beginning of the gold rush.
Enjoying
yourself World Nelson, to quote the great Kevin Bacon back in the
year of 1990, huh old pal and ADA Ron Wirtz Senior, of the Camden
county Prosecutor's Office???????
The
best kept secret in the county up there is not any of this 1990
fucking bullshit, but 10 years later in the last fucking cunt lapping
week in February of 2000, Michelle Gracci of Jefferson Silverhands
Street, right Mister fucking Mohr-Mayor of toy-land? These fucking
jerk offs, sir Hawking, have not followed me around the cycle for 234
times, huh, well, maybe you need to ask my daughter to fix you all up
with a few real large cups of nice dam ass hot coffee, and bring
Professor Pepperwinkle and his whoppers and inventions along for the
exploratronic ride of the ages! I mean between newspaper tablets,
Popes and Pote's, Chatsworth hyperspace miracles canonized or not,
and all of the Bluecran
Unexplained Miracles
that took place at or a mile north of Selena Dada's great Stenton
Avenue Atlantic City Rooming-house in the summer time of 1974, I
could ask for answers or even ask the GAGA cat, or the miracle man on
the beach that day, and in fact, folks, I
pressed and pressed the dude, until he broke, and swore me to
secrecy. It
does not matter because he disappeared and his entire family
disappeared,
about a year or so later, some time in the year of 1975. Well Delmo
Cifaloglio and future dental rapper Darius Deezy; you all just go and
choke me all you want to, from 1983, all the way to Florida's great
south lake, where it is John King OK to do so, BUTT
when
all is said and done, and as Maria Stromyer said to the great
original Patterson, ''Next time you see me, I'll be
DEAD''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Tell that to all of the 1994 Atlantic City
Police, and see which one falls down, all up set. Then, Clarence old
pal, we all might just have a better chance, that, and if my old pal
Bob becomes a team player. Folks, don't ask yourselves, what does
this little fucking prick really know, ask, what does this shit head
mother fucker NOT KNOW about all of us??????????????????? But then
again, Callio is dead and gone, Trollio my old camp pal from
Seventeenth and Sampson in Center City Philadelphia, is either
retired, or has joined Frank Callio; and I cannot speak for all of
the 'hyperdimensional effects' that the rest of them might have,
after all of these wild experiences; from the Trinidad
Nuthouse
and the nightmare of helping my mom and I after we are both DEAD, to
any and all disappearing mob men, from the middle seventies, right
Mike Tedesco??????? For all I know, even the great McGuire may have
gone the way of all flesh and flies. Keep dropping those bad boys out
of those drones from the future, right Anthony Owememoney
Zenun?????????????????????????????
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW:
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